Duty: a novel of Rhynan (6 page)

I dreamed of mother and father before Orwin entered
our lives. Their love caressed me. I woke to dawn lightening the
canvas inches from my face. Warmth from the fire radiated at my
back.
Loren must have stoked the fire early
. My blanket lay
heavily against my ribs. Shoving it aside, my hand encountered
resistance, not of wool but the weight of a man’s arm.

Instant full awareness dawned.

Irvaine shifted. His hand moved to my hip. My fully
clothed hip, I reminded myself. The small fact slowed the panic in
my throat.

Calm. He won’t hurt you. This is his right.

His breath stirred the hair on my neck. It tickled.
The regularity and slowness of his respiration reassured me he
still slept. I cautiously rolled over, easing his hand off me as I
turned. Finally free, I contemplated how to extract myself from the
tent without waking him.

“First call!”

The crier’s voice startled me so that I brushed
Irvaine’s chest.

His hand caught mine before I could pull it away.
Powerful fingers gripped my wrist, the pressure painful for only a
second before his eyes focused on my face. Recognition filtered
through their depths. The intensity of his grasp eased.

“Good morning, wife.”

“Good morn.” I silently praised the Kurios my voice
didn’t break.

“Sleep well?” His thumb stroked my inner wrist. An
answering tremor shook my fingers.

“Aye.”

He smiled. After placing a lingering kiss in the palm
of my hand, he released it abruptly. “We have a full day ahead.” He
rolled away to reach for his gear.

“When will we reach Kyrenton? How soon?”

“Tomorrow. Shortly after noon should we travel at the
same pace as yesterday. Then we shall discover the true state of
our holdings.”

The closest town, our destination, was the previous
Earl of Irvaine’s seat of power. Before the war and endless death,
he and his sons ruled as quiet neighbors. They remained on their
side of the border stones and we on ours. Only tradesmen passed
between us and a dwindling number of those as Orwin’s abuse
impoverished us. Our village, Wisenvale, struggled to keep mind and
body from starving. We offered little to entice a man selling goods
and services.

Feudal law kept us from seeking help from them. We
were of Lord Wisten’s domain thus none of Lord Irvaine’s concern.
Until now.

“Come, wife, we have miles to cover before our noon
meal. Best get to your feet and seek out your breakfast before they
put out the fires.”

I scrambled awkwardly out of the tent behind him. All
the aches from the night before had stiffened to dull pain during
the night. A bitter blast of air whipped the loose hair of my
ruined braid into my face and pressed frozen hands against my back.
The wind howled in my ears, momentarily blinding me and stealing my
breath.

“Here, I forgot to give this to you yesterday.” A
heavy cloak settled over my shoulders, blocking out the assailing
wind. He fastened the ornate clasp beneath my chin. “It will help
you stay warm until I can warm you again tonight.” He spoke
slightly louder than necessary.

My cheeks burned despite the chill.

Then before I could protest, he smoothed my hair back
from my face, effectively trapping my head between his large hands.
“Don’t freeze up, Bri.” His obsidian eyes scanned my face, fire in
their depths. “Remember our agreement about showing affection.”
Then he kissed me.

The firm pressure of his mouth on mine brought
unexpected heat in contrast to the frigid air around us. Then he
tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Liquid fire filled me from
head to toe. My knees threatened to give way and leave me hanging
from his hands by my head. I grasped the front of his tunic out of
pure self-preservation.

He drew away.

Leaning his forehead against mine with his eyes
closed, he simply breathed for a moment. My blood pulsed. My mind
frantically went everywhere and nowhere at once.

“You are enough to drive a man mad,” he whispered
harshly. Then suddenly I stood alone. He strode away in the
opposite direction as the campfires.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“’Tis bitter cold, my lady. You should be wearing
gloves.” Antano’s voice startled me out of a half-slumber. My horse
snorted at my abrupt movement.

“I have none.” My eyes watered. The wind bit at my
fingers, the parts I could still feel. I glanced to check they
still held the reins. I feared I would never be able to straighten
my fingers again. Should I try, they might not clasp the leather
leads again.

Antano grunted. “Fine way to treat his wife.”

“Pardon?” I glanced around, encountering the setting
sun in all of its blinding golden glory through a break of trees.
It took me a few moments of careful blinking before I could see
again. By then Antano moved away.

I shifted slightly in the saddle in an attempt to
ease the sharp ache in my lower back. I gasped at a flare of pain
and dared not move again. Thankfully, my mount docilely plodded on,
following the soldiers’ horses before it.

My respect for the men around me grew as the morning
waned. Until their appearance in our village, travel filled most of
their days. Hour upon hour with a horse between their knees, backs
aching, armor chaffing, they rode in all weather. Only a bit over a
day on the trail and I ached for home. I craved the luxury of
sitting on something that didn’t move.

The pair of men to my left drew closer as the cleared
area around the trail narrowed.

“I got a spirited woman,” the darker of the two
commented.

His companion whistled appreciatively.

“No, not that kind of spirited. She threatened me
with a hot poker should I attempt to touch her, ever.”

“At least she shows life.” The blond lowered his
voice. “Mine doesn’t even look me in the face. She mumbles her
words and stutters horribly. If I so much as sneeze, she turns
white and scurries off. After the third time, I tracked her down
behind the forge. Apparently her father was the village blacksmith
before–”

His voice whipped away on the wind. The darker one
nodded in understanding. They stared before their horses, lost in
memories of shared horror.

The dark one shook off his thoughts. “We have our
work set before for us.”

“No more than Irvaine.”

“Did you see the anger in her eyes? Now that is a
woman of spirit.”

“I don’t envy him the task of taming that fire.”

I focused back on my stinging hands as they glanced
my way.

They fell into discussing the advantages of the long
bow over the crossbow. I lost interest.

“I have been accused of neglect.” Irvaine’s deep
voice interrupted my thoughts as his knee brushed mine. “Show me
your hands, Brielle.”

“They will survive. I have suffered worse.” True, but
not for such a length of time.

“Brielle!” The harsh tone of his exclamation brought
up my pride.

“It isn’t that bad.”

His hard glare clearly indicated his disbelief. He
drew off his left glove with his teeth while reaching for my reins.
After pulling my horse to a standstill, he tugged off his other
glove.

“Give them here.”

I attempted to release the leads. My fingers
uncurled, but fire spread from the tips to the knuckles. Tears
escaped my eyes, but I bit my lip to hold back the cry that clogged
my throat.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Claiming my right
hand, he enclosed it in his warm palms. “Give me the other one
too.”

I obeyed.

“Have I been so boorish that you feared asking?”

“No.”

“Then why?” His dark gaze raked my face, seeking—no,
demanding—an answer. “I told you I would care for you.” He swore.
“Didn’t you have gloves yesterday?”

“No. My last pair became useless last fall. I hadn’t
replaced them yet.”

The day before had been mild. I saw no need to point
out the inadequacies of my gear. Today, however, had passed
differently. Since morning the temperature dropped steadily as the
wind grew stronger. Our breath grew misty in the air and the stream
we crossed at midday boasted ice along its edges.

“Brielle, I can’t read your thoughts. I need you to
speak up when you need something. Your hands are freezing. Much
longer and you would risk losing fingers.” He rubbed them. Burning
pain flooded through my hands.

I cried out. I couldn’t stop the sound. I bit down
hard on my lip to prevent another protest.

“I will stop rubbing them.” He pressed them between
his palms instead. Bringing our clasped fingers to his mouth, he
breathed on them. “From now on you are using my gloves.”

“But what about your hands? You need protection as
well.”

“I will seek out a spare pair.”

In his silence, I realized three men had stopped with
us. Lingering at a discreet distance, they conversed among
themselves. Two of them were my previous companions. I caught the
blond one’s gaze. He dipped his head.

“What must I do to earn your trust, Brielle?” The
hurt in the tone of Irvaine’s voice irritated my conscience. His
strong fingers worked warmth into my frozen ones.

“You were preoccupied.”

A lame excuse, but it remained the truth. He spent
the travel time with many of his men, listening and conferring.
Interrupting him then required drawing attention; something I
loathed doing, especially in the company of so many strangers.
Besides, the business at hand seemed so much more important than a
bit of discomfort on my part.

I lifted my eyes to find him studying my face.

“You are more important to me than my men, Brielle. I
carry a duty to them, but I did not swear my hands to their comfort
and my shoulders to their provision as I did to you. You cannot
convince me that this is comfortable.” He squeezed my hand gently.
Exquisite heat emanated from his rough skin, easing the cold’s hold
on my fingers.

Shame burned my cheeks. I lowered my face to hide the
moisture in my eyes.

“Now don’t hide. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He
brushed away an old tear with the back of his fingers. The cracked
skin of his knuckles caught at my cheek. “I am just disappointed
you didn’t come to me. Next time, ask. Promise me you will
ask.”

I nodded without meeting his dark eyes.

“I mean it, Brielle.”

Before I could nod again, a male voice tore the
winter stillness. “Traveler riding fast.”

Irvaine dropped my hands and reached for his sword.
The three men arrayed themselves, weapons drawn, between us and the
road.

“Stay behind me.” Irvaine maneuvered his mount
between me and the approaching rider. “If this goes poorly, ride
for the rest of the company.”

My knife was strapped to my thigh. Despite the
temptation to reach for it, I didn’t. My hands wouldn’t be able to
grip it effectively. Instead, I wound the reins around my hands and
watched the road.

The pounding of hooves on frozen ground filled the
unnatural silence. Fear thundered in my ears as each breath came
fast and shallow.

“He wears our colors.”

“It is Kuylan.”

The horse came to a clumsy halt several feet beyond
our gathering. The soldier listed dangerously in his saddle as he
turned to greet us. Face white, he pressed his free hand to his
side as though he had a cramp.

“We have been betrayed, my lord.” He coughed, wincing
in pain with each spasm. “Three hundred soldiers arrived at
dawn.”

“Wisenvale?” Irvaine asked.

Kuylan swallowed with great care. Sweat beaded on his
brow. Crimson oozed between his fingers.

I laid a hand on Irvaine’s arm. “He is bleeding, my
lord.”

“Fetch Muirayven,” Irvaine ordered. The blond man set
off at a gallop. “Let us get him down.”

Irvaine and the dark-haired soldier lifted the
messenger from his horse while the third man held his horse. I
managed to dismount, despite my aching thighs. I pulled a clean
tunic from my saddlebag. They eased Kuylan to the grass beside the
path. I pushed past Irvaine’s shoulder as he backed away. My cold,
clumsy fingers managed to unbuckle Kuylan’s pierced leather
breastplate on the first try. But they fumbled over the lacings of
his padded jerkin.

“Here, let me.” Irvaine pushed my hands aside so he
could cut the lacings.

I peeled back the stiff, quilted cloth to reveal the
wound. After wrapping my clean tunic around my right hand, I pulled
the skin together with my left before applying pressure. His blood
soaked the cloth with alarming swiftness.

“What did this?” I asked.

“Arrow, my lady.”

“Come, Kuy, surely you were not the only man they
could send.” Irvaine knelt at my side, offering a small measure of
shelter from the biting wind.

“Nay, my lord, I volunteered and rode off before they
knew. There were many worse than I. Someone needed to catch you
before you reached the gates of Kyrenton.”

“Why?” My mouth spoke before I thought.

“When the invaders discovered you were not among our
number, Lord Wisten hinted someone in Kyrenton would deal with you.
He named no names and perhaps spoke more than he should have. The
foreign baron seemed ill pleased with his loose tongue.”

“Is that what you meant when you said we had been
betrayed?”

“Nay. Brevand betrayed us. While we faced the main
company in the fields before the village, he led the others into
the village and gathered our women.”

“Loren.” My breath caught in my chest. Anger rose
despite my inability to breathe.

Kuylan grunted. “Aye, Quaren’s wife as well as the
rest. They threatened action against them should we not withdraw.”
He coughed. “Not so hard, my lady.”

I eased the pressure slightly. He laid his head back
and closed his eyes. The pallor of his face worried me.